


Bodie Language

by Slantedlight (BySlantedlight)



Category: The Professionals
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-10-10
Updated: 2013-10-10
Packaged: 2017-12-29 00:22:40
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,289
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/998649
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BySlantedlight/pseuds/Slantedlight
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Even CI5 agents attend professional development courses.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Bodie Language

Doyle was tired - training, who needed it? Especially the kind where you sat around in draughty rooms, listening to talks that should have been interesting - should have been fascinating, really. Psychology, profiling, interpreting behaviour, _predicting_ it... And yet Dr Michael Fulbourne had managed to reduce it all to pages and pages of black and white statistics, scribbled carelessly onto overhead projection sheets which were nearly all cut off at the edges, and a series of strange drones and mumbles. Where were the bombers, in that lot? The mad and the bad and the frightened, the people he and Bodie met on the streets every day? They should have been in there, but somehow... Nothing, all a blank.

All he wanted now was to go out for a run, to breathe in cold London air and feel his limbs stretching and his heart pounding, but even that was denied him - rain lashed at the windows and wind rattled the panes of his third floor flat, it had barely been a day for ducks, and the evening was shaping up to be even worse. He gazed outside for a moment, to the electric warmth of the flats and houses across the street, then to the fat drops that trickled down the glass, swept away again and again by the tumult.

He could have something to eat, he supposed, should really, but after a day doing nothing he wasn't particularly hungry. Maybe he should get out his punching bag, or go down the gym - Brown's would be open... Yeah, that's what he'd do. Decision made he snatched up his jacket and keys, opened the door, and...

There was Bodie.

"Going somewhere, Raymondo?"

He felt himself grinning, not knowing why, not particularly caring. 

Bodie pushed past into the sitting room, and Doyle swung the door shut behind them, dropped his jacket back on the chair, and went to stand beside him at the window. It was still raining.

"How was "Negotiating the Negotiators?"

"Deadly. How was The Art of Understanding?"

Doyle rolled his eyes. "Impenetrable."

"Impenetrable, eh?" Bodie asked slowly, lifting his gaze to meet Doyle's in the window, so that their dark reflections matched stare for stare. 

Doyle's heart jumped, settled back a little lighter, a little faster. "All talk," he said, "Not enough... action."

Bodie swept the curtains closed in front of them, and turned around.

God yes.

_Shoulders drawn back_ , thought Doyle - that meant something. He ran his eyes across the fabric of Bodie's suit jacket. It meant a pull at the clean white cotton of Bodie's shirt, that Bodie's nipples were rubbed softly by the cloth. That Bodie would like it when he licked them.

He let his eyes slide down Bodie's tie as it arrowed to his stomach, pointing downwards straight and true, over the leather of his belt, on to his... trousers.

_Look at his stance, legs planted firmly apart, arms held loosely beside his... thighs_. Strong thighs, Bodie had, built to run long distances, to take strain. Doyle knew what they felt like behind his own, remembered their heat, remembered that they could both balance against those thighs, no matter how desperate they were, how hard they needed it.

"Feel like I've been cooped up forever..." Bodie was saying, and his voice was low, tempting Doyle no matter what his words. "It's been..." he paused and tilted his head to one side. A question, that was, uncertainty... A request. "... a long day."

_Make it sound as if you're happy to acquiese, no matter what the demand..._

Somewhere deep inside his breath caught. To _acquiese_... to _Bodie_.

"Yeah, I know what you mean." Doyle had long since taken off his own tie, so he lifted a hand to his chest, loosened another button on his shirt, and then raised his arms above his head in a stretch, breathing in and closing his eyes.

And there they were - hands splayed upon him, across his own chest, thumbs brushing over his own nipples, reaching briefly to caress the line of his empty holster as it stretched under his arms, then falling, lower, down his back, his hips, his arse... pulling him to the body that was _Bodie_...

A face against his, breath in his ear... nothing turned him on as much as that. Bodie knew, knew that when he bit Doyle's neck like that he was as hard as he ever thought he could be... _what did that mean, how did you deal with a situation like that, Fulbourne_?

"Bed," he groaned, pulling backwards, knowing that he pulled Bodie with him, because there was no way either of them would give up the pressing together of their groins, the tantalising friction of it all.

_Swaying back and forth_ they crossed the room. It was all coming back to him now, a tiny corner of his brain starting to process the day properly, now that it was over, now that he had... _this_... It was a sign of nerves, of possible aggression, it was... it was keeping balance when Bodie's mouth was on his, when Bodie's hands were still on his arse, when all he wanted was _more_. It was their own dance, the moment before one of them found the bed by knocking into it, bringing the other one down with them, the moment of falling, separation only because it meant that... _Yes_ , Bodie would be lying heavy against him, and...

_Oh god_... he'd come like this, just from _this_ , humping Bodie from beneath him, not even undressed yet, not...

He opened his eyes, because Bodie wanted him to, because Bodie had whispered his name, and slowed his movements, and was gazing down at him. _Persistent eye contact_ \- an attempt to persuade... Bodie wanted something, was determined to have his way, to...

Bodie's hands slid down to his trousers, pulling at button and the zip even as Bodie's mouth met his again, kissed him almost softly, almost gently... _When the first frantic movements are over, when the desperation is gone..._

...Ah, when that happened it was because Bodie was touching him so lightly, it was because every move Bodie made against his skin just drew him tighter, made Doyle want him more, and it was because they knew that tonight there was more to come, there was so much more to come...

... his legs lifted, with a slide and a glide of hands, a shift in weights and balances, a... Bodie's mouth, his tongue... oh _there_...

What price body language now, Dr Fulbourne... what price sweating as a sign of nerves, as a sign of fear... as a sign of wanting Bodie in him _now_ , before he came just from the feel of Bodie's fingers slick and sure inside him, of Bodie's hot breath across his balls, from... and then Bodie was there, was pushing slowly and firmly, and Doyle's hands were clenched tight into fists, and that was a sign of something too, the fact that he closed his eyes while it happened, because this was _Bodie_ , because he loved... because he...

... _in_ and back, and Bodie's hands on him _there_ , and just the _look_ in Bodie's eyes, and his fingers were bruising as they pulled Bodie closer and harder inside him, because Bodie was _his_ and was... _Yes!_

They lay together, awkwardly now that the heat had worn away, before the blankets were pulled clumsily around them, before they tentatively let their hands stay where they rested on backs and arms and chests. What did it mean, Dr Fulbourne, that he didn't want to move for fear that Bodie would move, that he wanted more than anything now to feel Bodie's breath soft and sleeping across his collarbone, that...

What did that mean, Dr Fulbourne?

 

_August 2008_


End file.
